Shadows in the night
by perfectdenial
Summary: Basically a beginning of a new case for Dean and Sam. A distraught older woman is housing a violent poltergeist...or is it? I don't want to describe it too much because I want to keep you guys guessing and enjoying. This is basically my first time doing s
1. Chapter 1

Dean was worried about Sam, since the death of their father a few months ago he felt somewhat estranged to his brother. They both had separated emotionally from each other due to their grief, and although Dean attempted constantly to connect with his brother; Sam continued to stay distant and serious.

It didn't help that Dean was cracking jokes left and right in order to get some reaction out of his brother, mainly his poor attempt to direct away his fear and sadness when he thought too hard about his father.

He was hoping that this case would help them connect again, even though he's been hoping for that on the numerous cases that they had already done since their fathers' death. They still had not found the demon that killed their mother and probably their father as well. "Ah yes I love this song!" Dean spoke up through the dark reaching over to turn the volume up. They were driving to a new and unknown place, a familiar routine for them.

Neil Diamond's song "America" blared throughout the car and Dean cocked a grin at his brother. He began to sing along and make wild gestures along with the song. Sam just looked at him and nodded through lidded eyes. Dean inwardly sighed and drew his eyes away from the sight of his brother and back to the road. He saw something flicker in the road ahead of him, sure that his eyes were playing tricks with him…he squinted in order to see the image in front of him…slowing down slightly and finally noticing it was a girl running towards their car.

Her face was obscured by an odd white veil and had her arms outstretched towards them. He slammed hard on the brakes and heard his brother curse next to him. "What the hell did you do that for?" Sam barked at him not noticing Dean still staring forward into the night. "I-I thought I saw someone…something." Muttered Dean his eyes open wide and mouth slack jawed. Sam automatically sat up straight and stared forward as well. "What was it? A ghost? Reaper? demon?" Sam asked quietly and desperately…already beginning to move to open the car door.

"No!" shouted Dean at Sam. Sam stopped and stared blankly at Dean "What? We're just supposed to ignore something like that and keep moving?" snarled Sam. Dean stared at his brother and replied "Yes, we're supposed to be helping a living innocent person right now. If we fart around here looking for something I don't even know I really saw, this person could be put into graver danger. My eyes are just tired; I doubt I really saw anything." Sam looked at his brother quickly and sat back into the car seat. "You're right. Keep going."

Dean continued to drive for a minute and then noticed that they had actually arrived at their destination; the mailbox matching the number of the paper Sam was holding. He pulled into the driveway and stared openly at the house. "I guess we might tackle both of these problems at once." Sam stated still staring at the house along with Dean. It wasn't an odd house, just old and weary looking in the night. The house was large, it had the look of neglect, the color of the house was an indefinite shade of brown and the lawn was bare. The windows were sagging and dirty, and they shook slightly in the wind.

The Winchester brothers were staring at the house with longing, because they knew they had no house of their own, no place to return to after they've avenged their parents. No one waiting for them when they returned...all they had were each other. Both Sam and Dean turned away from the house and stared at each other. They shared an understanding moment between one another; each too pained to express it outright. Sam sighs between his lips and watches Dean shrug his shoulders, brushing off all emotions and fears. They were here to do their jobs; they were here to help someone.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean and Sam trudged up to the front door adding more dirt to the dusty porch. There was a yellowed house light on the right of the door and a few moths fluttering around it. Dean pulled the porch door open and knocked on the main one. Sam looked on, slightly behind Dean when they heard footsteps coming towards the door.

The door slowly opened and there stood a tall, and very stout; older woman. She looked to be in her sixties, but her eyes betrayed her. They held a pain and weariness in them that added almost ten years to her face, and Sam found it difficult to stare into them for very long. She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was white with a muted yellow color that made it look limp and dead. She was wearing an old floral print dress that looked as if it had been washed too many times and made all the colors mesh into a dull grey. She stared at Sam and Dean with startled eyes, her head darting back and forth between the two of them. "Yes?" She asked with a breathless whisper, as if afraid of waking someone. Sam leaned back slightly in surprise; he was astonished by how quiet and subdued her voice was in contrast to her stout physical build.

"Hi Mrs…" Dean looked down quickly at the two-week old newspaper he held in his left hand. "Mrs. Crawford, my name is Dean Winchester and this is my brother Sammy," he pointed to Sam as he said this "We've come to help you out with your little ghost problem." Dean flashed a flirty grin; already expecting the woman to be ever so thankful and invite them into her house where there would be 'surprise!' freshly baked cookies waiting for them. She stared hard at both of them for a minute, and then spoke again, but with a much more commanding voice. "Now listen, I've had enough pranks and jokes shared at my expense by boys like you, and I won't stand for it any more."

She moved quickly and began shutting the door. Dean hurriedly put his hand out to block the door from shutting and this time Sam spoke. "Mrs. Crawford, we're paranormal hunters, we help people, and we swear we wouldn't do anything cruel to you such as a prank or a joke, we take our job very seriously. I have an Electronic magnetic frequency scanner in the car if you want me to get it. It basically helps us to see if there are ghosts around." Sam was hoping what he said was enough to let the woman trust them and let them in, he really didn't want her to think that they were here to cause her any more distress. Just by looking at her he could tell how anxious and upset she was.

Mrs. Crawford looked over Dean's shoulders and right into Sam's eyes, as if searching for a mischievous grin or laugh from him after what he had just said. "You swear you're here to help me? That you're going to make things better?" She stared at them with desperation etched all over her face. Dean answered before Sam could get a word out "That's right, we're the good guys!" He flashed a grin again, wondering how in the world this woman seemed immune to his charm. Mrs. Crawford sighed loudly and opened the door to let them in. "Come in, and we can talk. But I swear if you're here to play games, I will kick your asses in every possible way." Dean turned around and mouthed a word to Sam when Mrs. Crawford's back was to them "Feisty!" Sam rolled his eyes at Dean as they entered the house.


	3. Chapter 3

The inside of the house wasn't anything to write home about, just like the outside of the house it contained the same sort of weariness, and most of the furniture was old and threadbare, but the house was spotless and cozy. Dean sniffed the air in hope of smelling some freshly baked cookies, but instead he smelled something antiseptic, like a hospital. He furrowed his brow and stared at the worn-out carpet but didn't say anything. He hated the smell of hospitals; they conjured up frightening memories and recurring nightmares about his father.

He hadn't told Sammy this but he was barely getting any sleep, he was always afraid of what was waiting behind his eyelids. He couldn't stop thinking about his father's death and replayed his father's last words to him. He shook his head when he heard a woman's voice talking to him. "…Have a seat on this couch and we can start talking." He heard Mrs. Crawford's voice say distantly. She was walking into a room next to the small entranceway that Dean and Sam were still standing in.

As she made her way into the dark, they heard the distinctive click of a light switch which illuminated the room. The room itself looked like a lounge area; it contained an old fireplace that was still burning a small amount of wood. It also held a few armchairs that faced an ancient looking ashen grey couch that had a raggedy old blanket folded neatly on top of it. There was a coffee table in front of the couch that held something out of place. It was a beautiful marble chess set, one side was completely white and the other pure black; it was set up as if waiting for someone to play it. Dean thought it belonged in museum compared to the rest of the room's belongings.

Sam and Dean took their seats on the couch and stared back at Mrs. Crawford. They were waiting for her to start the conversation. Once they realized that she was waiting for them to speak, Dean opened his mouth to start but Sam spoke first. "Well, Mrs. Crawford, my brother and I saw this newspaper article a few weeks back and we thought we could help." He looked at Dean quickly as he said this and then looked at the woman for a reply. She turned towards Sam and spoke "So, you've read the article from that newspaper, how in the world do you think you can help me?" She stared hard at them for a second, leaning forward in her chair and spoke again "I've had psychics, priests, and other ghost hunters in this house in order to get rid of this poltergeist. They've all failed, what makes you so damn sure you can do it?"

She leaned back and placed her hands onto the arms of the chair. Dean turned his head and stared straight into her eyes. "We've been in this business for a really long time Mrs. Crawford, I know we look young but we've experienced a lot of things in our lives. You need to stop judging us by our ages, if you want us to help; you need to start trusting us." Mrs. Crawford looked at him disapprovingly for a minute, but then seemed to deflate right in front of their eyes. "Alright, what do you need to know?"


	4. Chapter 4

Sam leaned forward and quickly took the newspaper from Dean. "Well, we've studied this article but it leaves a lot of unanswered questions, so why don't you just tell us everything that you think is relevant to this poltergeist." Mrs. Crawford placed her hands on her face for a second, looking as if she was going to start crying, Sam and Dean looked at each other for a quick moment but then turned their heads when she started talking. Her voice seemed emotionless, as if she was reading ffrom a car manual. 'She must have told this story so many times that she's memorized every word of it.' Dean thought.

"The activity started happening about eight months ago, everything seemed fine until one night when I was cleaning up the kitchen, a few knives were by the sink and they flew up on their own accord. I backed up trying to get away from the knives, but they kept coming forward, until they shot past me and stabbed the wall. My bed sheets are being constantly ripped, all of my upstairs mirrors are broken and my…" she stopped for a second and stared at them, looking confused for a minute before continuing on. "My clients' rooms get stuck all of the time and I can't reach them. I hear them screaming and when the door finally does open; it's so cold in the rooms that I can see both of our breaths." She sighed and shook her head, clearly trying to shake the chilly image out of her mind.

"Do any of your clients tell you what they've seen?" Sam asked while staring at Mrs. Crawford, who looked depleted but continued talking. "No, they found it very difficult to talk about it; and I don't want to push them." She replied. "Mrs. Crawford, I think you need to discuss your clients a bit more, I remember reading in the newspaper article that this is somewhat of a halfway house?" Dean stared hard at her, trying to figure out what she was hiding. He could tell that she looked upset and worried about something, but he couldn't tell what. "Yes, almost a year ago I opened up my doors to a group of mentally ill patients that had no where else to go due to the closing of the local mental hospital. I offered to take them in because I have a large house and I felt like I needed to help them somehow." "That's very humanitarian of you Mrs. Crawford, what made you do that? Most people would look the other way." Dean suggested, attempting to play hardball with the older woman. Mrs. Crawford stared at Dean with a cold look. "As you can see, I'm alone here. I have no real income and no one will hire me at my age. I felt that this was the only real chance for me to have some money coming in and I was also making a difference. Just as you asked earlier not to be judged by your age, stop judging my actions Mr. Winchester." Dean raised his eyebrows at the callousness in the older woman's voice but didn't say anything in retort.

"When do you want to start your search?" Mrs. Crawford asked, clearly exhausted from answering their questions and relieving the gruesome images of her own story. "Well ah, we can start tonight if you'd like…We probably should find a hotel first. We came here in a hurry and didn't make any real arrangements." Sam answered, looking at both Mrs. Crawford's and Dean's expression. He could see Dean's jaw tensing and he decided to change the subject almost as soon as possible. "Nonsense, it's already midnight, plus I want to tell my clients that you'll be around. You can start tomorrow afternoon. I have an extra room in the third floor that has two beds in it, you boys can stay there." She nodded as if the matter was already settled and stood up. "That's very thoughtful of you Mrs. Crawford but we don't want to interrupt your household anymore than-" Dean started to say but Mrs. Crawford was giving him a withering glare. "Alright, we'll stay here for the night." Dean stared down at the floor and smiled slightly. Clearly this woman did not like him, at least the feeling was mutual.


End file.
